i knew i was loved.......

the lightening just started and the rain is pouring down in sheets - the dog has headed for under my bed and i am watching the light show from my desk. i was told as a child never to sit next to the windows in a storm. i was never very obedient - despite all my good intent - and so here i am by the windows, rapt, watching mother nature show us her "don't fuck with me" side.

once, as a child, we were at a summer camp house on a lake. it had been so hot that we literally hippoed in the lake for the entire day. the clouds rolled in around 6 PM and the skies got as dark as night. Mama pulled us out and made us come inside - away from the water, and the windows. it was an amazing storm, loud and fierce and the lightening was brilliant and like nothing i had ever seen. i slipped off to go pee and then scrambled back into the pig pile of kids in the big room. just as i did, lightening struck and the toilet blew right off the floor and into the hallway.

my mother screamed - so of course we all screamed even Dad - and then she looked at me and grabbed onto me and started kissing me and crying. at that moment i knew i was truly loved.i guess i always felt loved but wondered in my heart where i was in this fast talking, loud irish family of mine. my brothers were the boys and so they mattered by gender alone. my sister was the oldest and a saint (no really, she is a saint, i swear). me i was always just trouble and i never knew until just that moment that i was really a part of this wonderful mix.

i clung to Mama like a limpet. drawing the last bit of juice out of the moment. my sister was stroking my hair and crying. my dad was valiantly trying to stem the flood in the bathroom and my brothers were for once, silent.

the storm blew off the lake as quickly as it came and Mama made mac and cheese because it was my favorite meal. we played parcheesi and lit a fire as the air had cooled almost to chilly and i never felt so safe.

of course my brothers have me on the toilet in their version of this tale - but then my brothers also like the three stooges and at one stage lit their farts on fire.

my sister says, "it was like the whole place lit up and when we looked, you were here with us and the toilet was too"

~minutes pass while -B gains her composure enough to answer the question~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Growing up, my family really did not show me much in the way of nice stuff. I guess the first time I truly felt loved was when I was about 7 or 8 and my little sister was 2 or 3. I was taking her for a walk around the apartments we lived in and she turned left when I turned right.

I realized that I had lost the baby and not wanting to get in trouble , I immediately went searching for her. All I had to do was follow the sounds of her hysterical screams, and there she was, scared to death and shaking. She grabbed on to me, I picked her up and she just held on for dear life! It was my first taste of feeling really loved and wanted and needed. And all I had to do was lose the baby!!

I really didn't feel that again except once or twice until I had my own children..... -B

What an amazing story! I had a fabulous visual of that toilet flying into the room! I've never heard anything like this before! You could probably sell this as a script to a sitcom you know! You are loved.....I hope you know it!

wickedeasy replies on 7/29/2006 7:59 am: nothing like seeing a toilet fly through the air to give you pause

When I was very young, maybe five or six, my two sisters and I became extremely ill with dysentery in Cyprus. All of us had high fever and there was a risk we could die, but my mother (who was a nurse) tended to us calmly and lovingly and we all pulled through.

warm xx

wickedeasy replies on 7/29/2006 8:00 am: the quiet tender care of a mother - you should tell her you remember this

As a child, I never could seem to keep myself clean. No matter how hard I tried, my shoes were always scuffed and dirty, my socks falling down to my dirty ankles, knees and elbows scrapped and dirty, hair blown every which-a-way, and sometimes dirt on my face too.

Once, we were having company come over after church for a Sunday dinner. I tried so hard to stay clean. I covered myself in an old towel and sat in a chair not willing to move. But, when the company arrived I tripped running down the steps to greet them. I sat in the dirt crying. But, my mother never said one word to me about being dirty, again. She just picked me up and took me into my room. There she dried my eyes and helped me change and clean up while the rest of the family entertained the guests. As she carried me back out to the living room and the company she kissed me on the forehead and said "I love you" "Dirt and all"

i was a tomboy and often looked like i'd gone ten rounds with a sherman tank - my mom would sometimes say "when are you going to act like a lady?" and i would feel really small and hurt. one day i came home with a bloody nose - got into a fight with a bully on the playground and my mother stuck me in the tub, listened to my story and my apology for not being a lady.

the first time i knew i was loved - i was in my senior year of college - and my younger brother was missing, for nearly three months at that point. i had gone to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. it was bitterly cold that year, grey, dreary, raining, and appropriate. the family had guest who had known us for years over -to alleviate some of the pall which hung.

my father, after the meal, instead of watching football in the living room, as he'd always done every year i can remember. He went and just stood in the open door way of the house. (another first) When i went up to him, he embraced me in the biggest hug i'd even known from him, and said about my brother - i don't care what he's done, i just wish he'd come home. It's the only time i've ever seen my father cry. And it was the first time i ever knew he really loved us, and knew, in that soul deep way, in his sharing his tears with me as well as his love for my brother that i was loved.

(for resolution of any reading my remarks: my brother was safe/ found/returned about a week later)

Its funny... could have been written by John Irving.. just missing the bear.

Strange topic to me.. I've always known I was loved. My parents, brother and sister were a close family. My brother and I would fight but we were fierce defenders of each other should someone else threaten. My grown children and I are close and I have an exrended family of friends... maybe I'm blessed not to have ever asked the question.

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